


Pinky and the Brain

by DustyForgotten



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Fluff, Guilt, Intrusive Thoughts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 09:35:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13521489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustyForgotten/pseuds/DustyForgotten
Summary: Peter's the smart one, but Wade thinks too much.





	Pinky and the Brain

“You ever think,” Wade says, hand on the side of Peter’s perfect face, “— well, of  _ course _ you think, all the time, smart sciency things and unconscious digestion-heartbeat-breathy things— but do you ever think how if I weren’t Deadpool, and you weren’t Spider-Man… Do you ever think about how I could straight-up murder you?”

Half-asleep from the warmth of the bed he’s already snuggled in, Peter Parker mumbles, “Try not to.”

“I mean, you’re a dork. You’re the kinda kid I shoved into his locker in high school, and I dropped out of high school to join the army.”

Hoping to spark a rant to lull him to sleep, Peter sighs, “I’m assuming you’re asking because you’ve thought about it?”

With his eyes closed, Peter feels Wade bounce the bed when he sits up. “Oh,  _ totally. _ I think about this kinda stuff all the time, you know.”

“M-hm.”

“I’m terrible, you know. Not even problematic fave bad, but really just… awful. Like, I kill people for money. Y’know, highest bidder baddies. Sometimes I kill people just ‘cause.”

“Yeah?” he breathes, eyes closed, a couple toes poking out from under the blanket.

Wade brushes it back over. “Yep.”

If Peter answers, it’s just an accidental sound as he settles into sleep. Wade watches for a moment, thinks of dropping from the window before Peter has to wake up next to his ugly mug one more time— but he always does. Peter’s perfect. Too perfect for someone like Deadpool, and he knows it. He falls asleep while Wade waxes barely-twisted metaphor to the horror that sits in the back of his head between the boxes, how fragile his ribs feel under Wade’s fingers, the sunscreened pallor of his neck.

Wade runs a scarred hand through Peter’s pretty hair, and tells himself that’s his better half. Brain to his brawn, beauty to his beast. If he’s not scared here, skull sleepily nuzzling into a killer’s palm, then Wade’s just off in his head again.

Peter’s the smart one, but Wade thinks too much.


End file.
